


Emigration Blues

by MakeItMagnificent



Category: Queer as Folk (UK)
Genre: Drama, First Time, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-13
Updated: 2012-03-13
Packaged: 2017-11-01 21:48:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/361628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MakeItMagnificent/pseuds/MakeItMagnificent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A trip halfway round the world for Stuart to find what he'd never realised he'd lost ...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Emigration Blues

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks again to QDS for all her help. xxx

Sandra was busy preparing for the meeting, all brisk activity, when she paused for a moment and glanced up at the man a few feet away. Stuart was leaning on the glass, gazing out over the Manchester skyline and looking sullen and disinterested. She sighed and shook her head.  
  
The door opened bringing a wave of chatter as his clients were led in by one of his colleagues. Stuart's smile switched on as he turned to greet them. After hand shaking and niceties, everyone was seated and Stuart began the meeting. It was a doddle; these clients were amenable and easy to please. The meeting progressed precisely as planned.  
  
Half way through the meeting, Stuart's mobile rang, vibrating in his pocket. He ignored it, and it promptly rang again. Frowning, he apologized and answered it. His eyes widened and then he frowned.  
  
'Sandra!' Everyone jumped at Stuart's sudden yell. The door immediately opened to an harrassed Sandra.  
  
'What?' she whispered, making exaggerated faces to remind Stuart of his clients.  
  
'Now. I'm sorry everyone, we'll have to finish this another day. Something urgent has come up,' Stuart said, addressing his clients. 'Please speak to my assistant to arrange another date.' They stood up, glancing at one another. Sandra showed them out, smiling but seconds later, glaring dramatically at Stuart. When they had gone, she hurried back in.  
  
'Where the fuck is Adelaide?' Stuart barked.  
  
'It's in Australia. You should know that. Why?' Despite his rudeness, Sandra could detect worry and panic behind his words.  
  
Stuart glared at her. 'I know it's in Australia.' He paused and swallowed. He then spoke slowly and carefully, 'I need a flight to Adelaide.'  
  
  
Four hours later, Stuart was sitting in the luxurious first class cabin on a flight to Australia. Actually, it had first been a flight to Amsterdam. Stuart had been close to apoplectic to be told, first, that Manchester Airport had no seats left at this short notice and secondly, that at the next nearest airport, Liverpool, he would have to change at fucking _Amsterdam._ On finally reaching Liverpool after appalling traffic, Stuart, thinking if he got any angrier he would have some sort of heart attack, had been told that all first class and premium economy seats had unfortunately been allocated.  
  
After being shouted at and verbally abused, airline assistant Danielle, (or Dan-i-elle as Stuart rudely enunciated at her as he peered at her name tag) at last managed to secure him what he wanted. Though only, he recalled wryly, after resorting to politeness, _flirting_ and flashing his smile.  
  
Stuart sat quietly. A short distance away, rattling and a variety of smells told him dinner was soon to be served. But all this washed over him. He was tense and unhappy. He pressed his fingers against the top of his nose against a threatening headache. He still couldn't believe how long this flight was going to be. He was neither hungry nor sleepy, nor had the slightest interest in the TV in front of him.  
  
He didn't eat any dinner apart from a sad looking unbuttered bread roll. He didn't sleep. He turned down the champagne. He watched _The Hangover_ and _Black Swan,_ neither eliciting any response from him apart from the merest hint of a sneer during a particularly disgusting lesbian coupling. He stared at the world map, trying to gauge how far they'd come in the five minutes since he'd last looked.   
  
He finally fell asleep on the flight but awoke feeling still tired, dirty and disorientated. The plane had just landed and he struggled to his feet. He went through the officialdom of customs, thankful he'd brought no bags with him. He would simply have keeled over if there had been bags and cases to find and carry. He had no idea of the time of day or even what day of the week it was. A little later, coming out of the terminal into warm night air, he found a taxi rank, complete with taxi, ready and waiting.  
  
Stuart eventually reached the hospital but straight away was daunted by the whole sprawling mass of buildings. Pushing all _where do I go_ _?_ thoughts aside, he made his way through the entrance and located the reception desk.  
  
'Please. I've come to see Vince Tyler. I don't know where he is. He came in, I dunno, yesterday? What day was that, Tuesday, no, no, it was Monday, please, he fell down the fucking stairs -'  
  
The night reception girl, unfazed by the swearing, had already located Vince's name and carefully gave him instructions. And seeing his blank look, patiently repeated what she'd said. Her gentle tone made his eyes prick with tears. Turning away, he swiped at them furiously and hurried off.  
  
Reaching the ward, he was told that no visitors were allowed, being so late, but after hearing his impassioned plea of 'I've come from England, it's my friend, he's hurt and I need to see him,' the nurse relented and showed him into Vince's room.  
  
Lack of refreshing sleep and food and all the worry of the past few hours finally surfaced as he took his first look at Vince. He clamped his hand over his mouth and the tears which had been threatening, slowly coursed down his face as he gazed down at his best friend.  
  
'My dear, he looks a lot worse than he is,' said the nurse, hurrying around the bed. A large, capable looking woman, she put an arm around his thin shoulders. 'The brain scan didn't show up any blood clots and all the bruising is down to the fact that he fell while holding something and couldn't protect himself. He's sleeping at the moment, though he was awake earlier for a bit. The painkillers are keeping him drowsy.'   
  
Stuart nodded without speaking. He picked up Vince's hand and held it tenderly. Vince's face was so swollen - a myriad of blues, greens and browns, with dried blood on his lips and cheeks - he was barely recognisable. The nurse discreetly left the room after telling Stuart she'd see what she could find by way of some decent coffee.  
  
Vince had left with Cameron five months ago. Stuart and Vince had pretty much made it up after _that_ party but a month or so later, Vince told him he and Cameron were going to Australia. Cameron had managed to secure himself a new job in his home country; he missed his family; a fresh start for them; great place for Stuart to visit, blah, blah, fucking blah. Stuart had no desire to visit Australia and no interest in their plans and as Vince made preparations to leave, Stuart had acted like a bored, petulant child. But alone in his flat, something like physical pain twisted in his stomach and chest. He'd curled up tight on the sofa, and found himself still there, hours later, waking up to feeling stiff and unrested.  
  
It had been Vince's neighbour who had called him on his mobile. Said she'd known Stuart's name because Vince had talked about him. He'd been carrying boxes down the stairs and had just tripped. The twat. Apparently she had no one else to call. _But where the fuck was Cameron?_ She rang off as soon as she'd given him the hospital's name because she'd had to pick all his stuff up.   
  
When the nurse brought him coffee and a sandwich, her concern and kindness brought fresh tears. She put the food down and wrapped her arms around him.  
  
♥♥♥  
  
As Vince woke up, he tried to open both eyes this time. Grunting, he shut them again, the early morning sunshine not helping with its dazzling brightness. His head throbbed dully. His lips, to his disgust, seemed to be stuck together. It was far easier just to lay and doze ...  
  
Vince woke again sometime later when he felt something warm and damp moving across his face. His brain worked a little quicker - it was wash time. He again practiced opening both eyes. He could make out the outline of his nurse, and beyond him, another form, in the chair by the window. As the warmth of the flannel soothed his throbbing face, he eased his eyes further open.  
  
'Who?' Vince managed to say, wincing in pain, as the skin on his lips contracted.  
  
'Morning, darlin', you wakin' up?' said the day nurse, 'Oh, him? Sleeping Beauty there? I gather he's your friend, Stuart, come all the way from England to see you and he's verrry nice.'  
  
Vince frowned, bemused at the nurse's loud voice. And confused by his answer, _Stuart? Here?_ But the nurse had finished his task and was gone, and the warmth of the sun through the window lulled him back to sleep.  
  
Time drifted for Vince. Waking again later, he tried to move his neck. Stiff but no pain. As he moved his head, he became aware of something else, something warm and firm resting on his hand. Squinting down, he couldn't see a face but he could see an untidy mop of dark curls. Stuart. Was it Stuart? His heart leapt at the possibility. He appeared to be asleep and resting his head on the bed. It _was_ Stuart. He'd always recognise that hair. But, he was in England. Only ... what was it the nurse had said? A flash of frustration went through him at his lack of understanding before he slipped back into sleep.  
  
The next day, Vince was woken for his dinner, a simple bread and soup which Vince found immensely difficult to eat. Any drop of soup that landed on his lips gave him a short spasm of pain. His whole body was stiff, awkward and aching to be up. His head still throbbed and he was also aware of something he should be remembering ...  
  
Or a _who_ , he should be remembering. A someone who now paused in the doorway, smiling at him. Stuart! Jerking his head in his direction, the soup spilled a little.  
  
'Fucking bollocks,' Vince moaned as the soup touched his lips. 'What are you _doing_ here?' he continued with difficulty, his lips seeming to have a life of their own.  
  
'Good to see you too,' said Stuart, coming into the room. He was unperturbed by Vince's greeting.  
  
'And you look awful,' Vince continued.  
  
'Thank you. Want me to get _you_ a mirror?'  
  
Smiling at their banter, the nurse explained, 'Vince is finding it difficult to eat, what with all the bruising, and the shock of the fall is also likely to be affecting his moods.'  
  
'You don't say,' Stuart said, smiling, running a hand through his unwashed hair. His eyes were shadowed and three day old stubble completed his not wholly unattractive dirty pirate look.  
  
After cleaning up and telling them that Vince wasn't to get too overexcited, she left them alone.  
  
'I _am_ pleased you're here,' said Vince with difficulty, frowning with concentration, 'Cameron -'  
  
'We don't have to talk about Cameron or anything just yet.'   
  
'But - please, I feel a bit sleepy ... I just wanted to say - me and Cameron - we split up.' Vince closed his eyes, exhausted by all the thinking and talking. He felt his hand being taken and Stuart's fingers slowly stroking and entwining with his own. As he slipped back into sleep, he could almost feel a weight lifting and a warmth spreading throughout him. Despite his injuries, he felt relaxed for the first time in months.  
  
♥♥♥  
  
Having controlled his urge to exclaim 'Fucking yesss!' at hearing about Cameron, Stuart looked down at the now dozing Vince. Stuart was smiling, an expression his face hadn't managed genuinely for what felt like an eternity. Earlier that morning, he'd been busy booking a hotel, as any more nights sleeping in the chair by the window and _he'd_ need a hospital bed. The hotel was five star, as usual, and he thought he'd take the opportunity, now Vince was sleeping again, to go get showered and shaved. Tomorrow he would go shopping. In his haste to leave England, there'd been no time to pack any of his clothes or belongings. Still, he liked to shop and he also wanted to pick up stuff for Vince when he left the hospital. After wiping Vince's forehead, he kissed the top of his head and left.  
  
♥♥♥  
  
Two days later, Vince was looking and feeling better, though he still ached - his bruises progressing through an everchanging display of rainbow colours. A further brain scan had given him the all clear. The all clear also meant that Stuart now thought it hilarious to make obvious and questionable jokes about the doctors actually managing to find his brain. Jokes which made Vince smile and shake his head. He was sitting up in bed while Stuart relaxed in the chair by the window.  
  
'It wasn't going to work. Me and Cameron,' Vince was saying. 'He was unimpressed because I'd only got a shelf stacking job at the supermarket.' He laughed. 'He was so pissed off with me, for not trying to get something better. And I'd never realised, his pissed off with me was so different to your being pissed off with me. We knew when you were pissed off with me, you were actually just being ...' Vince shrugged, '... a twat. Him, it was like I'd really, _really_ fucked things up. When I told him I was moving out, he barely said anything at all. Just let me get on with packing up my stuff.'  
  
So used to being on the receiving end of the word 'twat', Stuart ignored it and said, 'But where were you going to go?'  
  
'I was gonna move in with my neighbour,' Vince smiled, rolling his eyes.  
  
Stuart frowned. 'But why the fuck didn't you say? Why didn't you call me? I could've given you the money for the flight home.'  
  
'I didn't like to ask.' He paused and laughed. 'You would've been _really_ pissed off with me. Anyway I didn't know that I did want to go home. I wasn't sure there was anything worth coming home for.'  
  
Stuart stared at him, unblinking. His mouth tightened. Vince gazed back, realising what he'd just said and how it had sounded. He blundered on, 'I can leave hospital in two days, I can stay with you, I bet it's lovely isn't it, you always book such lovely places ...' Vince winced at the banality of his words.  
  
'Ok,' Stuart answered. 'I've got to go now, anyway, things to do, I'll see you a bit later.' He stood up, came over to the bed and gently kissed Vince on the cheek. Vince couldn't read his expression as their eyes briefly locked. Then he was gone.  
  
Vince held his face in his hands. He wished he could take back his words. They'd brought a barrier down between them just when he'd been enjoying his company and his just being there, like old times again. He'd tried to stop himself thinking that Stuart's rush halfway round the world to his bedside could be anything more than what a friend would do. He'd tried not to read anything into Stuart's gaunt appearance or his sleeping in his hospital room or sleeping with his head resting on Vince's hand or his tenderness ...  
  
A little later that morning, Vince took a phone call from Alexander. He was thrilled to hear from him - he hadn't made much effort to stay in touch with friends from home. Hearing their voices, even his mother's, had made him feel homesick right to his gut. Alex was talking so fast, demanding to know how he was and imparting the news that Hazel had been worried silly while also being furious that Stuart had taken off for Australia without telling her. Hazel had only been told about his injuries when Stuart had thought to ring her twenty four hours after his arrival.  
  
'And Stuart, oh my God, has he told you he was a complete miserable bastard these last few months? We didn't see him much, not at the clubs, and the couple of times I popped round the flat to get him to come out - well you know, of course, it was his wallet I was interested in.' Vince shook his head, grinning at this. 'And, get this, even on Friday nights, he was actually there, at home, working. And he was _totally_ offensive to me, couldn't muster one civil word. And then when you did your dramatic throwing yourself down the stairs, he didn't tell us, but Sandra said he just took off in a panic. I think he missed you, sweetie.'  
  
'Bollocks. He did not miss me,' Vince said, though wishing it were true. He let Alex ramble on, savouring these stories and jokes about Stuart, as they'd only managed a couple of calls while he'd been here; calls that had been awkward and stilted, with Vince struggling for what to talk about and finally resorting to inane enquiries about his family.  
  
♥♥♥  
  
That afternoon, Stuart went round to see Vince's neighbour to organise his belongings and see if they were safe. The door opened to reveal a short, pleasant faced woman in her sixties. As she looked at Stuart, she gasped,  
  
'Oh, oh, it's Stuart isn't it? Oh, do come in! Vince showed me your picture, well actually he showed me quite a few of them,' she said, laughing and before Stuart could reply, she plunged on, 'Is he ok, I did ring the hospital, they're letting him out soon aren't they, oh, he was _so_ nice, I didn't like who he lived with, never had a smile, now, Vince, he would _always_ help me out, one time, he actually came round in the middle -'  
  
'Stop. Just stop. I _know_ Vince is nice,' Stuart said, holding his hands up and smiling at her. 'I just need to sort his stuff out.' The woman smiled back good naturedly. 'Don't worry. It's all packed up again and we've put it in the storeroom. You can collect it whenever you're ready.' Stuart was relieved he wasn't immediately obliged to be humping Vince's stuff about and he and the woman, over tea and cake, spent a friendly half hour talking about Vince; what Vince had said about him, which seemed to include all his misdeeds and bad behaviour; the entire history of their friendship; how helpful and kind Vince was and finally, Vince's good looks. When Stuart couldn't take listening to tales of Vince any longer, and, saying as much to the woman, he gave her the hotel's address and left.  
  
Stuart went into a nearby Gloria Jean's and finding a quiet corner and equipped with an expresso, he slumped down in a big squashy armchair and brooded. He kept thinking about Vince's words that morning. _Nothing worth coming home for_. He felt upset and he hated feeling upset. He hated _feeling_ full stop. It gave him a pain. Normally, at times like this, he would find a suitable shag. But that hadn't been working for months - and he didn't feel much like a shag now. As if on cue, a man - tall, tanned, lightly muscled and extremely fuckable - walked past. He glanced at Stuart as he made his way to the loos. Stuart scowled back. Tempting, but ... not really bothered.  
  
The next day, Vince was out of bed, walking about his room. Every movement made him groan quietly as his body ached from the battering it'd taken. He was packing his bag to leave hospital. Stuart sat in his chair, watching him and smirking.  
  
'Do you get pleasure from watching me struggle? Are you actually going to help me or what?'  
  
Stuart stood up and wrapped his arms around Vince from behind.  
  
'I wasn't planning on helping. Your pain gives me pleasure,' he said, laughing. 'Serves you right for saying I wasn't worth coming home for.' He stopped, realising what had just popped out. Vince stiffened in his arms. He pulled away and turned around, frowning at him as Stuart stared back at him defiantly.  
  
'You know I didn't mean it like that. Twat. I meant about things, y'know, jobs and flats, not people. I really missed you lot, Hazel and Alex and ... you.'  
  
'I see, bottom of the list ...'  
  
'It's a rundown not a list, in third place - Hazel, second place - Alex, and the number one is ...' his voice trailed off as he blushed. Stuart smiled briefly, enjoying his embarrassment before bending to pick up Vince's bag.  
  
'Twat yourself,' Stuart said as he left the room.  
  
After signing Vince's discharge forms, Stuart came back in and stopped abruptly. Sat in the chair by the window was Cameron. He was talking as Vince sat listening on the edge of the bed.  
  
'Stuart,' said Cameron without emotion.  
  
'Cameron,' replied Stuart coldly.  
  
Silence. Then, 'I just came to see Vince - see if he wanted to move back in for a while until he he sorts himself out.'  
  
Vince laughed nervously. 'I said. I'm staying with Stuart, he's already booked the room for us.'  
  
Cameron sneered. 'Still paying for everything I see,' he said. 'Do you think he'll pay for the six months share of the rent that you owe me, the rent that you said wouldn't be a problem when we took out the lease? Is he gonna pay for that as well, Vince?'  
  
Vince blushed. He opened his mouth to answer but Stuart got there first.  
  
'I'll pay off your rent,' said Stuart. 'And how he chooses to pay it back to me, is our business.' He walked slowly across the room and clutching the arms of the chair, leant down into Cameron's face. 'Anything,' he continued slowly, 'as long as it gets _you_ out of _his_ life.'  
  
The two men stared at each other, before Cameron finally looked away and made to stand up.  
  
'I'm sorry Vince, I'm so sorry that you never learnt to make better decisions.' And without giving him another glance, Cameron left the room.  
  
Silence. Then Vince spoke. 'Why didn't you let me answer him? I _can_ pay for my own stuff, I can sort out paying off that rent, I can pay to get home, I don't _need_ any of your help.'  
  
'Fuck it all Vince, I know you don't need my help, I know you're capable of getting a job and paying him off or paying me off. I know you're capable of _anything_ , Vince. I know you've always have been capable of anything. I just wanted him gone, because _he_ doesn't think that you're capable.'  
  
Vince glared at him and Stuart stared back, his gaze unwavering. Money had never been an issue to them, Stuart earned shitloads, Vince didn't, it never worried them. Vince had always paid his way, paying the rent on his flat back home and helping Hazel out more than frequently. He knew he had nothing to feel bad about, but it was just Cameron ... being Cameron. His visit had left him feeling unsettled and riled.  
  
'Look, there's a coffee shop round the corner. They do a mean Irish coffee and there's this double choc chip muffin thing, with bits of mars bar on the top.' Stuart smiled at Vince and quirked an eyebrow. 'Sound any good?'  
  
Vince attempted to look nonchalant but failed entirely as his face broke into a smile. 'Be alright, I suppose,' he said. They gazed at each other and memories of Cameron's visit began to fade.  
  
Stuart put his hand out for Vince's to help him off the bed. After a pause, Vince took it. And as they left the room, Stuart didn't let go.  
  
♥♥♥  
  
Unsurprisingly, the hotel was enormous, set on the edge of the beach overlooking the southern ocean. Inside, chandeliers twinkled down at them, palm trees lined the way to the lifts and on the walls were assorted cityscape murals. Vince's eyes were wide and his mouth was gaping in wonder. The lifts were equally sumptuous, decorated gold and mirrored throughout. As the lift began to move, Stuart glanced at Vince, as Vince stared up at the mirrored ceiling. Suddenly, he was hit with an erotic image - himself on his knees; Vince's shirt open and trousers and boxers around his ankles; himself clutching at Vince's bare arse as Vince fucked his face with noisy abandon. The thought was brief, but his groin tingled and grew hot. The urge to touch himself and moan was almost overpowering. Instead, he bit down on his knuckles and concentrated intently on the changing floor numbers.  
  
Finally reaching their room, Stuart opened the door with a dramatic flourish. Vince wowed. Four poster bed, huge floor to ceiling windows on two sides, crisp white sheets, huge plasma on the wall. He turned and hugged Stuart, then moaned at the discomfort. Laughing, Stuart adored the physical closeness. The ever present knot in his stomach he'd felt at home seemed to have gone. He was finally hit with a realisation now of what it was - gripping jealousy hand in hand with the exquisite pain of losing someone special. He rested his head on Vince's shoulder and breathed in, enjoying the familiar, warm, wonderful smell of Vince.   
  
Vince shivered at the feel of Stuart's hot breath on his neck. He pulled away abruptly.  
  
'I need a shower. I mean I never had one in the hospital, can you imagine? I think the nurses washed me a bit - oh my God, did you see that gay nurse, I think he liked you. How did I know that? So, I must really stink - urgh, I can't believe I just said that -'  
  
A smile played around Stuart's lips as he listened to this ramble and watched his embarrassment. _I could listen to this for hours_ , he thought.   
  
In the bathroom Vince made full use of the most powerful shower he'd ever experienced; the acres of space in which to dry off in; the piles of hugely fluffy towels and to his endless joy, a _television_ right next to the toilet. He also spent five minutes wanking himself to the most intense orgasm he'd had for months. Jets of water from the shower covered the panting and the name he whimpered. In Australia, the 'magnificent' sex with Cameron had slowly deteriorated into adequate sex and his bathroom masturbation had been merely functional. Then Stuart's closeness over the last few days and then, oh my God, him breathing hotly on his neck had awoken something in him. He tried hard not to dwell on this as he wiped down the shower wall to hide evidence of what he'd been up to. These thoughts were unhelpful, he knew, when they were going to be sharing a bed for the next few days. Thank God for Super King size.  
  
Two days later, on what had again been a balmy summer day, the pair returned from a day trip to Kangaroo Island. This had been Vince's idea, Stuart having had to be convinced that he was physically up to going. In the end though, he was worn down by Vince's endless chatter about it and considered that the only way to shut him up was to actually fucking well go. Vince had been fine and though he wouldn't admit this to anyone, ever, the place _had_ been extraordinarily beautiful.  
  
That evening, after his shower, Vince, in boxers and dressing gown and sitting on the edge of the bed, awkwardly began to put on his socks. Stuart, lounging on the bed next to him, sat up and watched as he removed the dressing gown. He bit his lip and frowned, seeing again the extent of the bruising on Vince's chest and stomach, though he was healing well.  
  
'You ok?' Vince asked, feeling Stuart's eyes on him.  
  
Stuart nodded mutely. It still haunted him to think how serious Vince's injuries could have been - broken bones, blood clots, brain damage ... Without thinking, he moved a hand out and laid it on Vince's chest. He could feel Vince's hot skin, his heart pounding, strong and alive. After a moment, he began stroking featherlight fingertips over his chest. Astonished, Vince held his breath as Stuart's hand slid gently down to his stomach. It still hurt a little, but all Vince was aware of was the spreading heat and warmth throughout his body. Stuart concentrated entirely on the movement of his hand which came to a rest an inch or two above his boxers. Vince looked so beautiful but so vulnerable and he could have lost him forever. He did something then that shocked them both. With his hand still resting on Vince's stomach, he dipped his head and kissed Vince's chest just below his nipple. And he didn't stop. He planted tantilisingly tender kisses further up over his chest and back down to the top of his stomach. Vince gazed down transfixed. Without thinking, he arched his back. His nipples hardened as his groin deliciously started to ache.  
  
As Stuart kissed his way back over his chest, his mouth eventually found his nipple. Stuart felt a rush of desire, his stomach clenching in anticipation. He quietly moaned. Feeling Stuart's hot breath, Vince responded with the briefest whimper. Stuart paused for a beat, before Vince felt the heat and wetness of his tongue as it circled around his stiffened nipple before he began to suck. At this point, Vince thought he might actually collapse off the bed but Stuart, sensing this, slipped an arm around his back and held him firm. He carried on lightly kissing his bruises. Then he stopped, pulled back and looked up at Vince. He took in his beautiful blue eyes and flushed skin before his gaze slipped down to his mouth, open, and almost imperceptibly panting.   
  
Vince saw in that look such desire, nothing like the lustful stares he'd seen him give other men. A look he'd never seen before on his best friend's face. A look that cried out want and need and ... _and_?  
  
'Stuart, what ...' And then he stopped. Stuart didn't speak, but slowly smiled at him and Vince was undone.  
  
He seized the initiative. He grasped Stuart's face, kissing him hard and pushing him back onto the bed. Stuart gasped at the suddenness and pulling back from their kiss, he smiled up at him, loving him for his courage. Vince knelt above him as he kissed him deeply for the first time, his tongue playing inside Stuart's mouth. Stuart moaned, hands sliding over Vince's back and up through his spiky wet hair. He clutched at his arse as he pushed up and ground against him, his whole body aching for more contact. Vince began to explore, spreading light kisses down his neck, licking, kissing and biting, aroused by the sound of Stuart gasping his name.  
  
Then he sat up, smiling and writhing deliberately slow over Stuart's groin. He pressed him to the bed as Stuart squirmed and groaned beneath him. He looked down at him - Stuart was flushed; his skin was suffuse with a sheen of sweat; his mouth open and red from their kissing and he was breathing heavily. And he looking at _him,_ Vince _,_ like he wanted him, like he was gorgeous. And Vince himself, he didn't think he'd ever laid eyes on a more beautiful sight.  
  
Taking his time, he started undoing Stuart's shirt buttons. But this proved difficult as Stuart moved and bucked impatiently beneath him. In frustration, Vince did something he'd always fantasised about ever since he'd been a boy and Stuart had been in school uniform. He ripped the expensive shirt wide open, sending buttons popping over and off the bed.  
  
'Aaaah, Vince!' And the two men grinned at each other, confident and at ease. Holding Stuart's arms tightly, Vince dipped his head to lavish attention on his nipples. Stuart responded with begging and rubbing his hips continuously against him.  
  
'Fucking hell ... Viiince. I will, just ... aaah ... come in my trousers if you don't -' he pleaded.  
  
'I'm taking ... my time,' Vince replied. He slid off to the side, and his fingers firmly ran up and down Stuart's trouser zip, enjoying the feel of his straining erection. His tongue dipped into his navel before tracing a line downwards. This elicited yet more cursing. Eventually, he stopped the teasing and rapidly removed trousers and underwear. He moaned at the sight of Stuart's engorged cock seeping pre-cum and he dived in to explore with tongue and lips. Too near to coming and desperate for a taste of himself mixed with his best friend, Stuart pulled Vince back up to kiss him. And in a move that left Vince breathless, he flipped him onto his back.  
  
'This is gonna be a lot more comfortable for you,' Stuart said, smiling down at Vince.  
  
He quickly pulled off Vince's boxers and like Vince, he was unable to resist. He explored his cock, slowly running his tongue around the head, making a show of lapping up the precum. He couldn't hold back his own moans of appreciation and pleasure. He looked up at Vince, flashing an eyebrow.  
  
'Stuart ... oh my God ... please,' gasped Vince, the debauched sight of Stuart, his lips glistening with pre-cum and saliva, driving him closer to the edge.  
  
'I think you'll find,' Stuart said, between slow laps up the length of his cock, 'I'm taking my time.' But actually becoming more and more desperate himself, he moved back up for another kiss. Vince opened his legs as Stuart nestled in between and the two men groaned as their bodies pressed close, loving the sensation of their cocks rubbing together.  
  
But Stuart saw a flash of pain on Vince's face. He leant over to his bedside table, grabbed the lube and started to smear it over his hands.  
  
'Stuart, I don't think I'm ready, I still ache ...'  
  
Stuart leaned down, softly kissing his lips.  
  
'Don't worry, another time ...'  
  
He resumed his position but kept himself lifted up a little from Vince to spare him discomfort. He traced Vince's lips with his tongue before slipping it inside. Vince moaned deeply as he clutched at Stuart's face, hands sliding back through his hair. They kissed slowly as Vince ran exploring hands over Stuart's damp back and down to his arse. Stuart slipped a lubed hand between them, to grasp both their cocks. As he began to wank them, his hand moving faster and faster, Vince arched his back exposing his neck. Stuart took full advantage, licking and biting at his neck before attending to his nipples, gently biting before licking to soothe and excite. But he could feel their orgasm building fast. He knew it wouldn't take long this time. He buried his face in Vince's neck, the heady mix of sweat, shower gel and pure Vince-ness combining with the overpowering surge within him and he came, feeling Vince following within moments.  
  
Stuart collapsed to the bed. Vince turned to lay on his side, wrapping his arms around him and burying his face in his hair. Warm and relaxed, Stuart began to drift off. Vince though, remained awake and alert.  
  
Pause.  
  
Pause.  
  
'So ...' began Vince tentatively, his mind racing, already investigating one hundred and one possible outcomes to what had just happened. 'Did you actually miss me then, when I left?'  
  
'Fuck off,' Stuart murmured, drowsily.  
  
Pause.  
  
'I told Phil we wouldn't be able to look each other in the eye if we ever did it.'  
  
Stuart's eyes flew open and he leant up on one arm. He stared down at Vince, straight in the eye. 'Is this what you do after sex, talk bollocks?'  
  
'Cameron always said -'  
  
'Oh ... my God!' Stuart exclaimed. 'Am I going to have to shove my dick in your mouth just to stop you talking?' Vince's cock twitched in approval.  
  
A  pause. 'I missed you,' he continued in a quiet voice. A hint of a smile as he glanced down at the bed. For some moments, he concentrated hard on picking at a loose thread on the duvet. Then he looked back up and Vince was entirely certain he was blushing. Stuart leant over and gently kissed him. Back to his normal voice, he continued, 'Your second statement has quite obviously proved incorrect. _And_ I never want to hear Cameron's fucking name pass your lips again or I will have to perform a whole range of unspeakable and disgusting acts upon your person.' Vince grinned happily. 'Now get me a flannel so you can wipe all your spunk off my chest ...'  
  
♥♥♥  
  
Three weeks later, Stuart and Vince made their way through Arrivals. It was four days before Christmas and the airport was buzzing with activity. Hazel was waiting for them. They didn't know she'd be there, but she'd decided she couldn't possibly wait any longer. She'd got there by taxi, having no qualms about putting her trip onto Stuart's account. Serves him right. She craned her neck, desperate for a first sight of her son she hadn't seen for six months. And Stuart too, who, she was happy to admit, she would find little difficulty restraining herself from inflicting some form of physical attack on. Then she saw them in the distance, coming down the corridor. She watched them closely as they got nearer, her face breaking into a smile.They looked tanned and relaxed - Stuart no longer having the dark shadows of insomnia under his eyes and Vince's bruises hardly visible under his brown skin. Vince was chatting and Stuart was gazing back at him, smiling. She watched as he slipped an arm around his shoulders. Vince looked back at him, playfully bumping hips. Then Stuart dipped his head to give Vince the briefest of kisses on the mouth.  
  
 _At last,_ Hazel thought.  



End file.
